


The creak of the world's shoulder, turning

by stepquietly



Series: It's a victory that repeats itself [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepquietly/pseuds/stepquietly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Seth fucks Shea without Roman around, things aren't going anything like he thought they would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The creak of the world's shoulder, turning

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/missmollyetc/profile)[](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/missmollyetc/)**missmollyetc** for the awesome beta. Any remaining mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title taken from Beth Woodcome's 'An Annotated Inferno'.

The first time Seth fucks Shea without Roman around, things aren't going anything like he thought they would.

It's not that Seth’s not all geared up to try to do this. He's ready to be aggressive and in control because he figures that’s the thing, that’s what Shea wants from him. Seth just has to hold him down and keep him there, talk dirty and fuck him through it. That’s what Roman normally does, and Shea clearly likes it. Hell, Seth likes it, likes the way Roman tells him what to do and how to do it so everyone gets off. There's something about Roman talking Seth through his first time fucking someone’s ass, his first time being fucked, voice rough and hot in his ear that makes everything so _good_. 

He'd even spent most of his post-game time in the shower trying to plan his moves. Seth's maybe not quite ready to just wing things, so he'd spent time trying to think through how he was going to take charge. And all the while he'd been trying his best not to get hard with all the guys still hanging around in the locker room. The whole thing was an endless parade of hormone-laden confusion - should he tell Shea to kneel? Is that too much like porn? Why doesn’t he have the accent? The sex accent. Roman could say anything and it would sound sexy, but Seth can’t quite pull that stuff off.

And all of that was well and good. Except that when he got back to the hotel and onto his floor, Shea had come up behind him to and hover over his shoulder while he got the keycard into the door. And then, before Seth had much of a chance to do anything, Shea had used his bulk to muscle him up against the wall, pressed him back so Seth dropped his bags and got his hands up against Shea’s shoulders so that he could press back. And for all that Seth was supposed to be in charge of this. Every kiss Shea planted on him was telling him different, all hard and fast and ready to fuck.

So it's been barely any time at all, and now Seth’s breathless and out of his depth, his mouth already edging towards wet and sore from Shea’s biting kisses. He's trying to swallow back his gasps, get back into control, except Shea's shoving into him, grinding his cock into Seth's hip, and Seth can't do anything but arch back into Shea, grind down against Shea's hip.

Shea's manhandling him, quick stinging kisses and pinning him in with his shoulders, and Seth's never been so turned on and confused because well, Shea’s acting like he’s going to fuck Seth, and that’s not- but Seth is - he wants -

“Yeah,” he finally breathes, thunking his head back against the wall so Shea can nip at his neck, his beard tickling and scraping the skin there, “yeah, yeah, okay.” Seth cants his hips forward so Shea can reach behind him if that’s what he wants, trying to let Shea know. “You can.”

Shea pulls back so he can put a hand on Seth’s face, angles it so he can leave his thumb pressed into the corner as he kisses Seth. “Yeah?” he murmurs, and Seth nods, swallows, because this may be nothing like he thought tonight would go but it’s good, it’s _so_ good.

Shea just grins at him, eyes slightly wild. Then he shoves his knee in between Seth’s legs, pushes his thigh more firmly against Seth’s cock and rocks forward so he can pin Seth in, broad and hot and pushy like he hasn’t been ever, not ever with Roman there.

“I got you,” he says, and brings his hand up to unzip Seth’s pants and stick his hand in. Seth's already flushed and leaking into his boxers, and Shea just squeezes once before gathering up some of the slick to smooth the first couple of strokes. Seth lets his head fall back again, moans into Shea’s mouth as Shea scrapes his teeth over Seth's lower lip, his free hand digging hard fingers into Seth’s sides. Seth can feel the ache of it already, the skin going tight and hot under Shea's fingers, the way his hand is almost too rough on Seth's cock, the friction just this side of too much.

He’s overwhelmed, his mouth raw and the ache from his hip sparking over his oversensitive skin, coalescing at where Shea’s jerking him roughly, barely any effort to vary it out, the sound a wet slap that seems to echo against the bland cream walls of the hotel room. He can't stop trying to get some air into his lungs, trying to push his cock harder into Shea’s hand, trying to figure out how to get Shea to maybe bite down, get that ache to flare out and then -

He barely has time to register the tightening in his balls, his hand spasming on Shea’s shoulder as he whimpers, “Oh, uh, shit." And then Seth ends up slamming his eyes shut as he comes.

The whole thing happened so quick that Seth isn't sure precisely what he feels like; it's a mix of sort of shell-shocked, confused, but good. He's got his eyes closed but he can feel Shea still jerking him through the last of it, holding him up so Seth is braced between the wall and Shea's shoulders, legs spread around Shea's knee. That Shea’s cock is a reminder pressed up against his hip... Seth can’t really think about that yet. Not yet.

He’s wrung out, hot and sweaty, chest heaving and back soaked and cooling under his undershirt. He can smell himself, sweat and come, and Shea’s sweat too, the locker room soap, the weird recycled smell that hotels have, like old paper and bleach. His thighs are still twitching.

“Took the edge off?” He hears Shea whisper from where he’s nuzzling against Seth’s ear, “you more relaxed now, kid?” Seth pries his eyes open because Jesus, _relaxing_ isn’t precisely the word he’d use to describe what just went down.

"Relaxed. Yeah, sure," he says, wry, and Shea laughs and kisses him again, somehow still as rough and pushy as before.

“Come on over here,” he says, and manhandles Seth over to one of the beds. Seth has a fleeting thought about whether he should maybe put something on his door - a tie or something, whatever, so his roommate doesn’t walk in on his captain fucking Seth open - but that’s gone in the amount of time it takes Shea to start stripping the both of them out of their clothes. There isn’t any real room for thinking when Shea’s scratching down Seth’s thighs with his short nails while he drags his trousers off. Shea pulls off his own coat and shirt, and Seth props himself up on his elbows so he can gape all over again at just how fucking broad Shea’s shoulders are, pale and bruised from the game.

“Wow,” he exhales, and collapses back to stare at the blank expanse of cream ceiling, his body vibrating under the skin like it knows they’re not even close to done yet, even though he only just came. “Wow,” he repeats, and gropes frantically for what he’s supposed to do now. Should he maybe turn over so Shea can maybe, like, do stuff? Or should he wait for Shea’s lead, or what?

He can hear Shea rummaging about in his bags and Seth knows that means he’s going for the front pockets where they’ve all been sticking their lube and condoms for easy access. Lube for fucking him, Seth thinks ever so slightly hysterically, and wishes vaguely that Roman were here to orchestrate stuff like usual. Roman’s good at telling Seth to do shit and figuring out what everyone in the room wants, and Seth would really give a lot to know exactly what’s going to happen now that Shea’s in the mood to take and take and take.

And it’s not that Seth doesn’t - doesn’t want, doesn’t love the way his mouth feels sore, the way he can feel little sparks under his skin every time he presses his fingers into the marks on his skin, the way he can feel the skin of his face burn a little from Shea’s beard. It’s just - he likes knowing, being told. He’s gotten used to it, to Roman whispering and Seth and Shea doing, and Seth sometimes saying stuff back, playing Roman’s game. He’d been expecting to do something like that tonight, something where he said stuff like they had before, and fucked Shea maybe, but Shea’d taken over and pushed and _taken, god_ , taken, and Seth’s just, just waiting now. Waiting for whatever comes next.

Fuck, he’s half-hard again already, his cock still a little wet from his come, the air feeling odd and cold against him.

There’s a slick sound and the snap of a cap, and Seth pushes to his elbows again so he can see what’s going to happen. So he’s staring right at Shea as he lubes his fingers up and reaches behind and starts to finger himself open, grunting as he stretches himself. He mutters, “Gimme a sec,” and adjusts his angle so his knees are further apart on the edge of the bed. His cock is flushed and heavy, bobbing as he works his fingers deeper into himself.

Seth knows he’s gaping. He can’t help himself. Shea’s just - he’s just - and Seth’s not even really thinking when he scrambles up to sit against the headboard, legs stretched out, gesturing at Shea to come over, and groaning out, “ah shit, no, man. Come here. Let me. Let _me_.”

Shea pulls his fingers out and shuffles over, kneels so he’s straddling Seth’s hips. He leans down so his arms are taking his weight, bracing them on either side of the headboard so Seth can arch up and bite at his mouth this time, can put his hands on the rounds of Shea’s shoulders and rake nails down his sides, ‘til he can pet around Shea’s rim and feel where he’s wet and slightly loose. “Lube, lube,” he mutters into Shea’s mouth, and grabs it when Shea passes it over, squeezes way too much out and leaves the bottle open while he eases two fingers into Shea, trying to angle his wrist so it doesn’t hurt when he scissors his fingers.

Shea grunts and kisses him, fucking back onto Seth’s fingers, and fuck, yeah, okay, this is working, this is _brilliant_ , Roman who, whatever. “God, yeah,” he mumbles and bites down on Shea’s shoulder, working his teeth into the bruise as Shea shudders over him, his cock leaking onto Seth’s abs where Shea’s trying to get some friction.

“Now,” Shea says, and Seth ignores him, messing with Shea’s rim and teasingly trying to work in a third finger back there. His entire focus is on the way Shea’s working his hips in small circles back and forth, trying to get the angle just right. Except that’s when Shea seems to lose it and grabs Seth’s wrists and slams them down onto the bed, gets all up in Seth’s face and growls, “I said right the fuck _now_ ,” and fuck, Seth’s never been this hard, and also Shea means business, jeez.

Shea squeezes his wrists once, warningly, and says, “Stay,” voice hard like when he tells Seth to fucking get his ass over on the ice. Seth automatically nods, locks his joints so he’s in place while Shea reaches over and pulls out a condom from the box on the bed. He rips the packet open and starts rolling it down on Seth’s cock.

Seth can feel the muscles in his thighs jumping. The urge to fuck up into Shea’s grip as he rolls the condom down is really strong, but he stays. His eyes flit between Shea’s hands to his face to his cock to the bruise he’s left on Shea’s shoulder, the small indentations of his teeth marks just beginning to come in. Shea holds his cock steady and starts working himself down onto it, small increments and slow thrusts, and Seth has to grit his teeth and do his best not to go off like a rocket.

“Steady,” Shea warns him, and starts to rock, movements slow and careful. It's like he’s testing Seth’s cock out, rotating his hips carefully, expressionless with his attention turned inward. Seth tries his best not to move, curling his fingers into his palm so he can focus on the press of his nails rather than the way Shea is hot and slick inside, muscles tight and squeezing down like all the best sorts of pressure. He's frantically trying to think of unsexy things so this isn’t over really quick, but there’s only so many unsexy things anyone can think of when midway through sex, and Seth’s having sex alone with his captain, oh my god, _oh my god_.

Shea jerks suddenly, head flying back. He mutters, “There, yeah,” and starts to work his hips in hard, long pulls, lifting his hips up ‘til Seth’s cock is nearly totally out before slamming himself down, fingers pushing punishingly into Seth’s chest. Seth grits his teeth and does his best not to come now that Shea’s moving, focusing instead on the way one of Shea’s hands is only an inch or so away from his nipple. It's the best distraction he can come up with given that Shea’s ass is gripping his cock tight, tight, and the room is loud with the wet, slapping sounds their hips make, the way the bed creaks and thumps against the wall. 

Except - Except, fuck that. Because Seth knows, he knows that Shea needs a push sometimes, needs someone to get him out of his head so he can give it all up, and that’s what Roman does and what Seth can do, and Seth’s going to, he’s going to -

Seth rears up and grabs at Shea’s hips, thrusts, his hips working to get as much leverage as they can against the hotel mattress. He licks at Shea’s lower lip, nuzzles in until Shea shudders and opens his mouth, lets Seth kiss him, slick with spit, mouths working. “You like this,” he points out. “You fucking love it.” Because Seth has not come away from these last couple of months without learning a thing or two.

Shea groans low in his chest, eyes screwing shut and a flush rising over his skin. So Seth keeps going, trying desperately to remember half the shit they’ve said during sex. “You love to take it, yeah. Me and… well, just me now. But otherwise me and Roman. You love it.” Shit, he’s terrible at this. “Your ass feels so good, taking me like this,” he mutters, and fuck, okay, yeah, that’s kind of sexy, right?

Except, wait, his own hips are stuttering, and Seth can feel his orgasm coming on, being all but pulled out of his balls. And Seth knows that Shea’s not there yet but he has to do _something_. So he desperately shoves all his weight onto one hand and wraps the other around Shea’s dick to jerk him. “If I come early, I’ll totally finger you later, I promise,” he tries to tell Shea, and Shea looks back at him, mouth open, gasping and incredulous, before Seth slams his eyes shut and comes like a freaking freight train.

“Jeez,” he mutters a couple of minutes later, “wow.” He’s blushing, but he really, really hopes it’s just coming across as sex flush. Seth doesn’t even know how these things happen to him, except, well, he totally does because well, Roman and like, planning.

His dick is actually almost aching, his balls definitely are, and Seth’s really glad that Shea doesn’t really say anything for the few minutes he takes to get his breath back, silently pulling off so Seth can slip out and get rid of the used condom. By the time Seth’s finished leaning over the side of the bed so he can drop the condom into the trashcan, Shea’s fucking into his fist, trying to get his other hand in place to finger himself.

“Hey, man, no,” Seth says, flipping onto his stomach, “let me,” and pushes Shea’s hands away so he can wrap his own hand around Shea’s dick. There’s enough precome dripping now that it’s a pretty easy slide, and Seth pushes closer so he can angle his other hand under Shea’s balls and back towards where he’s still wet and open, shove three fingers in and crook them.

Shea doesn’t say much, his body just a little tight and drawn in, and Seth makes an executive decision to bite him high on the crease of his thigh.

“Fuck,” Shea yelps, as Seth shoves his fingers in sharply. He twists his grip on Shea’s cock head and Shea’s shaking and shuddering and coming, this long low groan finally dragged out of him. Seth suckles gently on the bite mark, and works his hand in long, slow pulls to draw out the last of Shea’s orgasm, waits him out until he goes lax against the pillows. Then he pulls his fingers out and wipes them off on the bed, kisses gently at the curve of Shea’s hip.

Seth stays, face pressed against the crease of Shea’s thigh, as their breath evens out.

The room smells like sweat and come, and the longer Seth lies there, the weirder everything starts to seem. Shea’s cock is right there next to his face, and Seth’s sort of fascinated by it and vaguely awkward about being right up in there.

It’s a surprise when Shea’s hand lands on his head, the heavy weight of it. “Not the worst you’ve done,” he says, voice rough, and Seth jerks his head up to see Shea grinning at him. “You should practice your stroke a bit more,” he says, his grin getting wider and wider, “I’ll help.”

Seth pretends that he isn’t blushing, grinning from ear to ear when he says, “I’m holding you to that.” Because yeah. _Fuck yeah_. That sounds awesome.


End file.
